Pretend Girlfriend
by JustClem
Summary: You didn't realise you needed her until she comes into your life. You didn't realise you were hopelessly in love with her until she asks you to pretend to be her girlfriend.


You didn't realise you needed her until she comes into your life.

Every time you look at her you wonder how it's possible for someone to be so pretty. It's not the perfect kind of pretty. You're not stupid enough to think Rachel Amber is perfect, but damn it, compared to all the shitty nobodies in Arcadia Bay, she might as well be.

You didn't realise you were hopelessly in love with her until she asks you to pretend to be her girlfriend.

"Why?" you ask, grinning because whatever it is Rachel is planning, it's got to be dangerous and crazy and you're going to love it.

Rachel smiles at you. It's a strained smile. "Because Nathan's hitting on me and I am not about to let his rich dick get anywhere near me."

"Oh."

Rachel's fake smile drops and she presses her back against the locker, heaving a long sigh. You want to sympathise with her - but you can't. How can you? You're nothing like her. She's the star of Blackwell and you're her tag-along nobody. You don't know how it feels to have everybody looking at you with jealousy and admiration and a sense of want. You're only familiar with people looking at you with disgust and disappointment. You're a shadow. You're her shadow.

Still, you try.

You clear your throat and push yourself against the locker, standing up straight. Well, as straight as you can. You push your lock of brown hair away from your face. "Why don't you just tell him to back the fuck off?"

Rachel's face confronted in anger and she slams a fist to the locker, loud enough for a couple of students around you and Rachel to stop talking and look at you and Rachel - mostly Rachel - in interest. You professionally give each of them a glare that says fuck off.

"I did. It just makes him more persistent."

"Yaiks."

The bell rang. The lifeless students shuffles into their assigned class, where they should be.

You and Rachel stay where you are.

"I know I _like_ being popular, but just… no means no, you know?"

You bring one of your hands out of your pocket to place it on her shoulder, your thumb drawing circular patterns on it. It calms her down, as always. "I know."

She looks at you and smile. You feel special because it's not the kind of smile she shows to anyone else. It's a smile reserved for you and you only. Nobody else. One of her lips is curled up more than the other, and it's not as charming as her fake ones, but to you, it's more beautiful because it's real.

You realise you've been holding her shoulder for far too long and pull away despite not wanting to.

That seems to snap her out of whatever trance Rachel was in, because her face suddenly twists in guilt and she looks down. "Shit, maybe I shouldn't have asked. That was rude of me." She looks up at you again, her eyebrows tilted up and her mouth tilted down. "I'm sorry, Chloe."

You feel skittish when you shake your head and say, "No, no, it's okay. I'll do it."

"Really?"

Rachel looks hesitant. You feel hesitant too. You flash your signature, crooked, small smile. "Hella really."

You can't help but notice the snort in her laugh. Your smile turns into a grin when she shoves you away. "You're ridiculous."

Her blue earring dangles, a small chiming sound coming out of it. It's always soothing to hear it - even if you're only barely able to, each time. It reminds you that Rachel is nearby.

You stare at it as you say, "But you love me."

Rachel looks at you, and you suddenly grasp that you two are alone in this school hallway, dimly-lit, a yellow-ish light shining on them from the window.

She looks perfect, in that yellow light. Then again, she's Rachel Amber, she looks perfect in any light, even no light at all. She looks beautiful, wearing that smile, and you know she'll still look beautiful even when she isn't smiling.

She always looks beautiful to you.

"Of course I love you." Her voice is soft. You like that it's soft. She leans towards you. Your breathing stops as well as your heart.

Rachel stands on her tippy toes. You wonder if you should hold her waist to help her balance herself and pull her close, closer than she already is.

You can feel her breath, misty and warm on your own lips. You wonder if you should close your eyes.

Rachel suddenly boops you in the nose.

"You're my pretend girlfriend!"

Rachel laughs, and you stand there. You can feel your heart again, and it's beating wildly because it's slowly realizing what almost happened.

You feel nauseous when you realize that what you thought almost happened would never happen, and your hands clam up in sweat when you realize what you wanted to happen, what you still want to happen.

Rachel doesn't notice that you're flustered _and_ pale. As soon as she stops laughing, she gives you another smile and pulls your hand, intertwining them as she leads you to class you don't even share with her.

"We're going to have so much fun!" and "This'll show Nathan Pressfuck not to mess with me!" and "I'm so excited, aren't you?!" echoes in the hallway, and all you can do is nod and look disinterested, because you fear that doing anything else will show the secret you only now realize you have.

You look down on the joined hands.

Hers is small but has a rough edge to it. It's fitting. It shows that she's not all sunshine and rainbows. It feels nice. You like her hand. You want to touch her hand every day, maybe kiss it too.

She and you head to class. You do your part, complain and joke. She does her part, laugh at your jokes and add her own input to them.

You realize that it's harder for you to touch any part of her skin and not linger. You do nothing about it.

* * *

It's been three days, and Nathan still hasn't noticed. Rachel drags you around school, trying to get Nathan to see you, but somehow, the piece of shit always figures out a way to ignore her when you were there, and a way to get all over her when Rachel was alone.

The in-denial bastard.

So now, Rachel thinks dragging you over to the lame Vortex party is the best way to do it.

You don't agree with her.

You find yourself in the party anyway.

Rachel snakes her arms around one of yours, a small act you still haven't gotten used to, even three days after this whole pretend thing. Her skin is just so nice, and you find yourself loving the touch more and more.

She wears an unbuttoned black and blue flannel, insisting on wearing your crummy old rock t-shirt underneath. She wears boots instead of sneakers, and puts a darker shade of mascara and lipsticks, giving her a more goth look, even when she insists it's supposed to lean more towards a punk one.

You dress up as well, though not as well as Rachel. You wear a brown leather jacket instead of a black one, a black tank top underneath, and jeans and spiky boots. Rachel insists you shouldn't waste your time looking fabulous for these losers, but you know that if you want to convince anyone that you're dating Rachel Amber, you have to look the part.

As Rachel scouts the perimeter, you begin to think about how you don't really have to pretend much. How you and Rachel are still the same. How you both just… hold hands and hug each other more - publically, that is.

There's a small part of you that asks, _"Why the use of 'pretend'? She's practically yours already."_

You do your best to shut that fucking inappropriate part of yourself down. Not the time and place. Never the time and place.

You two are still Chloe and Rachel. You're beginning to feel unsure if you want things to stay that way. You hate yourself for it.

Rachel tugs at you until you lean down to be eye-level with her. Her eyes lean to the left and you follow her gaze.

There he is.

The bitch who doesn't know how to accept a 'no'.

The plan is to hang around in the party and act like a couple until Nathan sees and understands it himself. It's supposed to be that simple.

So _of course_ Nathan suddenly marches to them, his loyal posse following three steps behind him, because nothing is ever simple, ey?

He looks pissed, which makes you pissed as well.

He's also quite different from the last time you saw him, back when he was being harassed by Drew. He's still as skinny and short as ever, but he's snottier and is more prone to anger. At least, that's what everyone says. He certainly _looks_ snottier, and he's angry already.

Rachel's grip on your arm tightens. You look down and find her giving you a warning look. Your jaw clenches. You remember that if anything were to happen, you'll let her take care of things, no matter how drastic things can get.

You did try to complain, but she gave you a firm look, saying, "This isn't your game, Price. If you try to play, you'll only end up getting hurt."

That shuts you up, thus, ending the argument, with Rachel as the winner. No surprise there.

"What the fuck is this bitch doing here?"

Your eye twitched, looking at this puny kid. You so, _so_ badly want to teach this kid a lesson, but you know tonight isn't about you; it's about Rachel.

Rachel pulls you close to her, and you lean to her awkwardly, not sure if you should do or say anything. You're supposed to be girlfriends. Girlfriends are supposed to be all lovey-dovey. This is Rachel. You're supposed to be all lovey-dovey to Rachel.

Yeah… Nah.

You're a daredevil, but not _that_ much of a daredevil.

"This, Nathan, is my girlfriend. I'm inviting her in because I want you guys to meet her. You know, as my plus one."

You stifle a laugh at their reaction. Nathan looks like he's been told he's disowned from his family's inheritance. Victoria looks like she's eaten a special nasty lemon.

The rest of them are a mix of shock and awkward. You can't help but think, _"Same, my dudes,"_ at the latter.

This whole situation is awkward. You hope tonight will end this whole pretend thing. At the same time, you don't mind having Rachel call you 'hers' and having to call her 'yours'.

Nathan growls, taking a step forward, his eyes dead-set on Rachel. "The fuck? You've gotta be kidding, right?"

Your hand goes to hers on reflex as you glare at him. You don't care that he's rich. If he messes with Rachel, then he'll wish he hadn't.

But you also know that Rachel isn't without her thorns, and you feel the beginning of a smile when she says, "Okay, yeah, you got me. I don't actually want you losers to meet her. I invited her here because I want to."

Nathan opens her mouth. It's Bitchtoria who speaks first.

"Well, I mean, it's pretty obvious."

Your mouth opens, and curls into a smile when Nathan looks as though he's been stabbed in the back. Though, given the circumstances, he might as well be.

Vicky steps towards you and Rachel. She looks at you, up and down, and it makes you feel like you're a worthless trash and you don't deserve to be here. Rachel's hand travels to your back, her touch light as feather, and you don't quite feel like you're a worthless trash, rather a trash that's somewhat worth it.

"You two sluts have always been together since, well-" she rolls her eyes, the action perfected with practise "-since when the fuck ever." Victoria stands, facing Rachel, and Rachel faces her with equal faux kindness. This reminds you of Mean Girls. You feel out of place. You fit more in Heathers or Scott Pilgrim, after all. "I think you two are made for each other. Both of you are gross sluts who should never have been accepted in Blackwell in the first place."

When Rachel says, "Why thank you, Vic," you feel as though this night doesn't end something, rather, it starts something.

Something that won't end for a while.

* * *

That something turns out to be the whole 'pretending to be girlfriends' thing.

The thoughts including what you want to do to Rachel's lips becomes increasingly hard to repress as the days pass, especially with everyone at Blackhell showing their love and support and being nicer to you than before. It's kind of weird, how you're no longer invisible, but Rachel's always with you, guiding you in this long hard road of popularity, so you're not really bothered.

Even when your crush is hard to repress, you manage. It helps that Rachel doesn't look at you any differently. You're not sure how it helps _exactly_, but hey, it helps.

One lunch break, you find Stephanie taking a seat in front of you, a cool smile and a cool clothing and a cool attitude.

You pretend not to be taken aback by her sheer coolness. Seriously, it should be fucking illegal for someone to be this awesome. Why is the justice system so damn useless?

"Word on the street is you and Rachel are the new Romeo and Juliet of Blackwell."

You stall by chewing slowly, hoping Steph will blame your red cheeks on the sunny day. Unfortunately, Steph is no fool. Her chill smile becomes chillier when you swallow.

"Yeah…"

"You seem unsure."

Damn. She is one perceptive lady.

You immediately shove another piece of this gooey thing they served that sort of resembles macaroni but tastes like salt and cinnamon, for some reason.

She grins wider. You blush deeper.

In a vain attempt to hide your blush, you take another bite out of this gooey cafeteria food. She looks at you like she knows something, and all you can think is _shit_, and keep on chewing, hoping you won't choke on your food.

"Are you really dating her?"

You choke on your food.

"W-what the fuck? Of course, I'm dating her!"

Steph doesn't say anything. Neither do you. The awkward silence keeps prolonging until she stops it. "You know, she's really into you, dude. You two make a solid thing."

You keep telling yourself not to let it get over your head, because you're pretending, it's all fake, and Rachel will never see your pathetic punk-ass like that.

You ask, full of hope, "Really?"

And she looks at you with that look, the kind that answers more than any verbal answer, and you let it get over your head, and you forget that she's not interested in you-

* * *

-until you're looking at the sight of her, in another man's arms, in an empty classroom, late at night.

It feels like Rachel - or maybe the world, or maybe it's the teacher she's been making out with - slaps you in the face. Hard.

She looks at you, totally surprised, like she's not expecting you to be heartbroken.

And you look at her like you've never been her pretend girlfriend.

You leave the classroom, ignoring her calls for you.

Whatever. It's not like you're in love with her, or something. Rachel can go fuck herself. You don't need her. And she sure as hell doesn't need you. It's not- you're not crying, you're not- it's just- the cold, or something, you don't know- you're not crying, you can't be crying, not because of something as stupid as this. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

Fuck, stop crying already!

The next day, you stay at home, ignoring her calls, again. And the day you're brave enough to step foot into Blackwell, she's nowhere to be seen.

You won't be aware of what happened to her, not until you're reunited with your ex best friend who can rewind time and have died in so many alternate worlds. And when you're aware, you say you blame Jefferson and Nathan and Principal Wells, but really, you blame yourself.

You'll never know if she ever sees you as more than a pretend girlfriend.


End file.
